


Touch

by Kaijuscientists



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Blood, Crusade Era, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Little bit of angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Temporary Character Death, Touch-Starved, a lot of it by nicky, caring Yusuf, catholic Guilt?, love is stored in the yusuf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaijuscientists/pseuds/Kaijuscientists
Summary: Nicolò struggles with his own desires when it comes to his immortal companion, Yusuf.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 11
Kudos: 276





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a hoe for touch-starved gays

Nicolò stares at Yusuf as he sits across the fire, dressing the rabbit he has trapped for their dinner. He’s had his sword across his lap the whole time, with the intent to clean and sharpen it, but he hasn’t had his attention on it in some time. 

“Nicolò?” Yusuf asks, having felt the franks eyes on him as he works. 

Nicolò startles out of his daze, looking away when he realizes Yusuf is looking right at him. 

“Are you alright?” Yusuf asks, eyebrow cocking up in concern.

“Yes.” Nicolò says, eyes shooting back down to his lap. He draws his stone across the blade of his sword, honing the edge. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing of importance.” Nicolò mutters, because it wasn’t important, not really. Not more important than the friendship he has managed to forge with Yusuf, he has decided that much. 

They had developed a routine, one that moved past simply sticking together because they shared this gift of immortality. Yusuf has been teaching him arabic and he has been teaching Yusuf ligurian. Nicolò is beyond frustrated, because Yusuf is picking up his language so fast, meanwhile he struggles with Yusuf’s. His tongue and mouth refusing to form the correct sounds. But the look of pride on Yusuf’s face when he finally gets something right, it keeps him trying.

“You sure?” Yusuf asks, he had only known Nicolò for a few months, but already he could tell when something was bothering the man. He reaches over, placing his hand on Nicolò’s knee. “You seem troubled.” 

Nicolò eyes close reflexively at Yusuf’s touch, and in his distraction, the stone slips and the freshly sharpened blade of his sword bites into palm. Hissing through his teeth, he snatches his hand back, sword clattering to the ground.

“Here,” Yusuf says softly, kneeling in front of him holding his hand out.

Nicolò can already feel the meat of his hand knitting back together, itchy as it starts to heal. He places his injured hand into Yusuf’s anyway, the man inspecting his palm. He wipes a wet piece of cloth over it, cleaning the blood away to reveal a nearly healed cut, freshly pink skin from thumb to little finger. 

“Does it still hurt?”

Nicolò shakes his head and his heart skips a beat with the gentle care Yusuf bestows upon him, even though he will be healed in a matter of seconds. 

“Good.” Yusuf says as he cleans the rest of the blood from his hand. By the time he’s done, Nicolò’s palm is completely healed and he feels warm all over, tingly all the way up his arm from Yusuf’s gently touch. 

“Thank you.” Nicolò whispers, now more distracted than before, rubbing the hand Yusuf’s had held with his other. He can feel the ghosts of Yusuf’s fingers still dancing on his skin. 

These touches are what had been occupying his mind to begin with.

Friendship with Yusuf had come with touching. Little inconsequential touches given without thought or hesitation. 

At first, it had caught Nicolò off guard, but now he found himself craving them. The fleeting seconds when Yusuf's skin meets his own, makes sparks dance along his spine and warmth bloom in his chest to settle around his heart. 

Those feelings grew with each touch. And with each touch Nicolò craved more. He considers asking, just saying _“when you touch me, Yusuf, it feels good. I feel good. Please touch me.”_

But that thought is dismissed quickly. Nicolò could barely stand to think of his life without Yusuf.  
He’s not willing to scare him away with something like his own desires. 

Of course, if the man woke tomorrow and decided he wanted to go separate ways, Nicolò would let him, but there would be something missing from his life.

The idea of having to leave Yusuf and going on alone was not a good one. 

Nicolò spends the rest of the night watching Yusuf by the light of the fire, sitting and eating in comfortable silence.

\------------------

Nicolò startles awake in the middle of the night, his entire body tense for a moment as he tries to figure out what exactly woke him. It doesn’t take long to realize something was touching the back of his neck.

_Yusuf_

There is a line of warmth all along his back. They had started sleeping closer together, especially as the night grew colder. Yusuf must have moved even closer to him in his sleep, his forehead now fully pressed against the back of Nicolò’s neck. 

Instead of moving away from him, Nicolò relaxes into the contact, reveling in the warmth that washes over him like a blanket, in the feeling of contentment and safety, enough that he falls back asleep. 

Nicolò wakes as soon as the sun rises, as usual. Yusuf is still pressed against his back, having moved even closer against the chill of the night. He manages to slip away without waking him.

\------------------

When Yusuf wakes, he’s alone.

“Nicolò?” he calls out, sitting up and looking around, not seeing any sign of him. But not finding any sign of a fight either. Nicolò had gotten in the habit of washing first thing in the morning.

Yusuf heads towards the nearby river, easily picking up Nicolò’s trail and finds him standing on the bank of the river. He hangs back in the cover of the trees, to admire the man just for a moment, Nicolò’s muscular back glinting in the early morning sun. 

When Nicolò turns, and starts to head back, Yusuf decides it’s time to make his presence known He steps out of the tree cover, and the motion startles Nicolò enough that he slips on the wet rocks.

Yusuf's face falls as Nicolò tumbles to the side, running to him when he hears a shout of pain.

“Nicolò!” Yusuf calls, scrambling himself on the slippery rocks before kneeling next to him. “I did not mean to frighten you.” 

“It is fine.” Nicolò says through clenched teeth, his ankle throbbing in time with the beating of his heart as he lay on the ground. 

“Are you hurt?” Yusuf asks.

“Just my ankle.” Nicolò says, he can already feel his bones healing and he figures he’ll be fine in a little bit. “Might have broken it.” 

Yusuf gently takes his foot in his hands, rotating and pressing lightly into his joint and Nicolò gasps in pain. The irony that Yusuf is touching him again, after he’s been injured yet again, isn't lost on him. He just wishes he could enjoy it a little more. 

“I’m sorry, Nicolò.” Yusuf says, feeling terrible for causing him pain after they had decided to stop with unneeded violence and stop hurting each other. “Is it healing?”

“Yes.” Nicolò says, struggling to push himself up to sit on the uneven rocks. Yusuf is quick to offer help with a supporting arm around his shoulders. Nicolò barely suppresses the shiver that runs through him at the contact. “Give me a few minutes.” 

“Whatever you need.” Yusuf says, blinding Nicolò with his smile and settling down next to him. “We can wait.” 

\------------------

Nicolò, foolish as he is, thought he’d get used to the casual touches, that eventually, Yusuf’s touch would not light up his nerve endings like wildfire. But everytime he thinks he has it under control, Yusuf will touch him again, and it reignites those feelings, and leaves him waiting for the next. 

It was clear to him that Yusuf is accustomed to it, that he’d grown up with this easy touching and closeness. Nicolò had not been afforded that same luxury, having spent most of his formative years in the seminary before being sent off to fight. Nicolò is thinking on this and what he should do about it while he and Yusuf pack up their sparse camp to get going again. 

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t even realize something is happening at all until suddenly Yusuf is yelling and there is a piercing pain in his back. He spins to see Yusuf looking at him with wide, scared eyes, and when he opens his mouth to ask what is happening, blood gushes from this throat and spills from his lips. 

Nicolò’s knees buckle and he falls face first into ground, the last thing he hears is Yusuf’s scream, full of rage, as he fights for air drowning in his own blood. 

When Nicolò comes back to himself, he’s first aware of his body, lying prone on his back with a pressure on his chest. That pressure is what kick starts his lungs, reminds them of a need for air, pulling in a gasping inhale as his back arches off the ground. 

“Nicolò?” Yusuf’s shaky voice filters into his ears. He opens his eyes, and Yusuf is there kneeling next to him, tears flowing down his cheeks, mixing with flecks of blood. Nicolò just looks at him confused, his brain failing to catch up as it sometimes did after reviving. 

“An ambush, they managed to get you with an arrow.” Yusuf explains, that tremble still in his voice as he moves to lean over Nicolò. His hands splay over the man's chest, and he can feel the beating of his heart underneath his palm, and it’s more calming than it has any right to be. “I pulled it out, but you weren’t… you took too long.” 

“You are crying.” Nicolò says in awe, his voice a little hoarse. His mind is struggling to process everything, from Yusuf’s hands on his chest to Yusuf crying over him because he had died. “For me?”

“Thought I might have lost you.” Yusuf says sniffling and nodding his head. Nicolò reaches up one shaky hand, his fingertips touching Yusuf’s tear stained cheek. These tears are for him, because Yusuf was scared.

Nicolò decides right then that he needs to kiss this man right now, or he never will. He sits up, and sliding his hand behind Yusuf’s neck, he crashes his lips into Yusuf’s, a little too hard and a little too stiff to be very good. He comes to his senses seconds later, when Yusuf has yet to kiss back. 

“I’m sorry,” Nicolò says quickly, feeling suddenly self conscious. He pulls back his hand as if he’s been burnt, his skin and lips tingling where he’d met Yusuf’s, turning his gaze down to his lap. “I don’t know why...”

“No, Nicolò,” Yusuf says, cutting off whatever Nicolò had been about to say. He gently tips Nicolò’s head back up with a hand under his chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. “Please.”

Yusuf, softer this time, presses his lips to Nicolò’s, angling his head just so to avoid smashing their noses together. He slides his hand back so it rests on the side of Nicolò’s neck, this thumb resting just below his ear. When he rubs the skins there, Nicolò nearly purrs, and Yusuf knows right then that he will do anything to make him do that again. 

It’s chaste, neither man taking a step to deepen the kiss, but Nicolò melts into him all the same, his hands tangling in the front of his tunic. When Yusuf finally pulls back, Nicolò pulls him closer, as if he’s afraid he’ll move away if he lets go. 

Nicolò’s eyes flutter open, and he gasps in a breath, having forgotten to breathe the whole time Yusuf was kissing him. 

“Don’t apologize.” Yusuf presses his forehead to Nicolò’s. “Not for that.”

“It felt like the right thing to do.” Nicolò whispers, staring right into Yusuf’s deep brown eyes. As soon as this man's lips hit his own, something shifted in his chest, settling in a way he hasn’t felt probably since he was a child. 

“It did.” Yusuf whispers, covering Nicolò’s hands where they’re still wrapped up in his shirt with his own. “Nothing felt more right in my life, than this, right now.”


End file.
